The Ancient World
by Yalamodo
Summary: When the Scottish Clans lose wars against Arendelle and Berk, Hiccup must negotiate a peace treaty as he evades assassination attempts, dragon persecutors, and a too-friendly Merida. As the threat of escalating war looms, Hiccup and Astrid must decide if they can put a blood price on love - for each other, their dragons, and their friends. [AstridxHiccup] Merida Elsa RoftBTD Big4
1. Prolouge: A Failed Plan Repeated

**The Ancient World**

 _This story takes place after Brave, Frozen, and How to Train Your Dragon 2, including content from all seasons of Riders of Berk and Race to the Edge. I own nothing._

 **Prolouge: A Failed Plan Repeated**

The Scottish always handled their own problems. Nothing was left to wait for another day, and the straight forward solution was nearly always the best one. It was with these three principles in mind that the Dingwall Clan drove out the invaders from their eastern front. Some people might say that migrant farmers trying to establish a new grain belt did not deserve the havoc of a full army, but none of those people were Scots. Unfortunately, the monarch whose flag those poor souls had flown WAS one of those soft-hearted fools; and when the Dingwall clan refused to make reprimands for their assault, the Queen of Arendelle took their playful death threats to heart.

At first the Dingwall Clan welcomed the challenge. Everyone agreed that peace was boring. But soon Arendelle's overwhelming military, a reflection of its vast wealth, began to sweep across their territory like a sea of steel. So the Dingwalls reached out the other clans, for the only thing a Scotsman hates more than a rival clan is anyone who isn't a Scotsman. United under King Fergus and the Clan of DunBroch, the MacIntosh and MacGuffin clans joined the fray. The finer armor and greater numbers of Arendelle were broken and trod upon under the combined might of the clans, led by the four chieftains goading their warriors to a frothing fury. Merida DunBroch had never felt more unstoppable in her life than she had in those few weeks as the Scots reclaimed Dingwall lands; and none of her fellow warmongers thought twice of the lass riding up in front on Angus, dropping an Arendelle invader with each arrow in her quiver until she was forced to draw blade. As they neared the unclaimed grey territory between the Scots and Arendelle, Merida had been nearly bouncing out of her saddle in anticipation of the final battle.

For as long as she lived, Merida never saw a woman as beautiful or cold as Queen Elsa of Arendelle.

The Scots had come prepared for a war, their armies restless and eager to finish the conflict at the business end of a claymore, and the Queen's demand for surrender went unheeded. The war was lost with a wave of the Queen's hand. In seconds the pride of the Scots withered in cocoons of ice. As the frozen prisons began to constrict, the chieftains reluctantly surrendered. The terms were harsh. It would take years for the clans to pay their debt. Tension was about as tight as everyone's temper when the dragon hunters suddenly stopped bringing in goods, radically depleting what few resources were left in Scotland for the Scots. The thin Scottish patience snapped completely when they heard that it was the Vikings, one of their fiercest rivals, that shut down their biggest trading partners. With fields failing to produce enough crops to meet the Arendelle tax and feed themselves, a bold plan was proposed, argued over, and eventually agreed upon.

When the four clans amassed their armies and sailed to Viking territory, Merida had fought tooth and nail to go. But for once, it was her father who would not let her ride out to war. Instead she was tasked with leading the skeleton crew of royal guards to protect the kingdom from any who might attack while their proper armies were away. At first Merida seethed and stormed, until the English invaded. It was Merida who had the bright idea of first having the sick people under the healer's care cough on gold coins which they scattered on the path before the English, and then evacuate everyone and everything except the beer from the nearest town. As the English drank to their hearts' content, Merida and the guards set the village aflame from all sides. Those who were sober enough to run away were cut down in a swarm of arrows. Merida became a hero of Scotland once more. Emboldened by her success, Merida spent the remaining days until the fleet came riding Angus out the edge of DunBroch territory, waiting for her father to come up the path laden with loot to ease their people's suffering.

As it often is for the young, reality was a harsh awakening.

When her father and army returned it was with burns in place of gold, and the soldiers staggered under limps and the weight of failure instead of treasure and food. When Merida ran to meet her father he stared at her with eyes dead to the world, defeated; it was an expression so fundamentally wrong on her father's face that for the first time in years Merida did not know what to do. Her father told Merida and her mother, in a voice raw with defeat, story of countless victories.

He told them how the first Viking tribe they found was a collection of adolescent women living with baby dragons in tree forts, how the Scots came in by surprise and routed the women in minutes, sending the survivors fleeing for their lives and spending the rest of the day looting the village and bombarding a colony of dragon nests on the island.

The next island they sailed to held a tribe of stealthy warriors dressed all in black, led by a fierce female named Mala. The battle was ferocious but swift as the overwhelming numbers of the Scottish army swept through the village. Though these Vikings were able to call upon wild dragons to cover their retreat, the Scots managed to cut down at least half their number as they, for whatever reason, barricade themselves on a foot path leading to a volcano until a great grey behemoth of a dragon slowly flapped away, with Mala and her warriors close behind.

Still hungry for treasure, the Scots pursued the fleeing Vikings to a tribe they knew well and hated more: the Berserkers. The Scots began to sense an unsettling pattern as the notorious Dagur the Deranged swooped upon them from the back of a dragon, his war cry echoed in the screams of an island of berserkers. Once again the Scots prevailed, but here the victory was slow and costly, with each downed berserker taking four Scots with him. In the last hour of the battle before the Berserkers abandoned their island, Lord MacGuffin was crippled by a raven-haired berserker lass with a double-bladed ax. Though the island's many riches were stripped bare, righteous anger and lust for further victory propelled the four clans deeper into enemy territory, into the bowls of hell itself.

Though the fourth island in their campaign was a barren, jagged rock spiraling out of the sea, the Scots could not ignore an injury, and the decision to mount an offensive against Outcast Island was sealed the minute their fleet was ambushed by an Outcast bombardment. Here, the price of victory was inglorious to the point of depression. The Scots outnumbered the Outcasts more than twenty to one but paid for each inch of volcanic stone with pints of blood. In a grueling campaign more than twice the length of the berserker battle, the Scots advanced through canyon ambushes, spike pits, bridges that erupted in flame when they were halfway across, and the Outcasts themselves, a breed of warrior every bit as strong as the Scots and twice as fierce. At sunset, the Outcast leader Alvin the Treacherous dueled the four clan chieftains while his tribe fled. It was here that King Fergus DunBroch lost his hand; and Alvin, swearing further vengeance, leapt into the sea, his armor caked with Scottish blood. Disheartened and without loot to show for their slaughtered comrades, the Scots vowed to pursue the Outcasts and avenge their wounded king.

At this point in the story King Fergus held his head in his hands and sighed, staring down at his lap for so long Merida thought he had forgotten she and her mother were there.

So many of the previous Viking clans had been eradicated during the great dragon wars that only one stronghold remained: Berk, domain of Stoic the Vast. The Scots sailed the last leg of the journey in silence, sensing something great brewed on the horizon. The Berkians were waiting with catapults and ballista primed, longships launched, barricades manned, and bolts nocked on crossbows. But they did not advance. Instead, a cry went forth, a long screech of wild power, and a black shape shot forth from the heavens to hover above the Scottish fleet. A dragon black as midnight barred their path, and a man sat atop his back. Less than half the size of most Vikings, he cut a demonic figure of black and red leather, his face covered by a mask and his sword alight with hellfire.

Thus Merida learned of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, son of the late Stoic the Vast, and how his demand that the Scots depart in the name of peace was met with derision and an arrow.

The moment Lord MacIntosh's arrow deflected off Hiccup's shield the ships shook with a thousand war cries. The noon sun was covered as a horde of dragons filled the sky and rent the clouds with flame. Some Scots tried to fight. Others fell to their knees and prayed, convinced the end of the world was upon them. Some jumped into the sea. It did not matter though, for as one the dragons breathed forth a brilliant torrent that swept up from the back of the fleet, incinerating four fifths of the fleet. Among the swarm of beasts rode several Vikings, each guiding their own army of dragons to direct the attack. Pinned between dragon and Viking, King Fergus and the chieftains made a desperate rush for Hiccup. Lords Dingwall and MacGuffin fell gravely wounded to the dragon's explosive fire, and Hiccup managed to disarm Lord MacIntosh. But as the young Viking tried to reason with the lessor chiefs, King Fergus struck a blow that would have surely slain this commander of demons had his claymore not been blocked by a golden-haired Valkyrie.

The war ended with three strikes from her ax: one to block King Fergus's attack, one to disarm him, and one to split his ribcage open. When her father removed his shirt and cloak to show his family the wound, Merida knew no other Scotsman could have survived such a blow. Even her triplet brothers had been subdued at the sight of the great red weal, shrinking into their mother's lap. Later, the Scots learned she was named Astrid – divine beauty in the heathens' tongue – but it didn't matter much. With the chieftains down, the war was lost. Forced to agree to a surrender treaty, the Vikings allowed them to depart to their homeland.

When her father announced that in one week's time the Vikings would arrive to negotiate how much tribute the Scots owed them, Merida understood her father's hopelessness. The four clans had lost.


	2. Chapter One: Freedom

Chapter 1: Freedom

Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third breathed out loud sigh as Bucket and Mulch waddled away to distribute orders to the other fishing crews. Sometimes it simply astounded him how much micromanaging a chief needed to do with a group of people who had performed the same jobs their whole lives. He immediately winced at the title. It still felt wrong. Stoic was the chief…should be the chief. But Drago Bludvist had changed that. And Stoic had always wanted Hiccup to be chief one day. But –

Hiccup took in a quick breath, pushing down the sharp emotion needling his subconscious. His tribe needed him.

A triangular black head nosed his hand, an inquisitive coo encouraging Hiccup to smile in spite of himself. He instinctively scratched Toothless across his broad, flat skull, hand reaching behind the frill of plates to scratch behind his ear. The Nightfury trilled lowly, rubbing his muzzle against Hiccup's leg. Hiccup smiled down at his first friend.

"Thanks Bud." Toothless hummed almost musically, his plates rising slightly. Mollified, Hiccup walked back to his house, his gait slightly uneven as he compensated for the difference in pressure applied to his prosthetic. He had long ago accepted the metal appendage and adapted his walking style. But no matter how well-crafted, all his prosthetics felt slightly off when he was on the ground, slowing his pace and making Hiccup hyper aware of the shifts in his initial step – just one more reason why he preferred to fly, where the prosthetic felt more natural than his real leg.

Hiccup paused briefly but frequently to congratulate or instruct a passerby working in the village. Though they had recently finished repairing the village from Drago's attack, much work remained to be done. The defeat of Drago and the Bewilderbeast had come with a number of changes for Berk. Now that Toothless was the Archipelago's alpha, it seemed every dragon for hundreds of miles around wanted to come and pay their respects at some point or another. Unfortunately, Berk couldn't support that many dragons, so a risky arrangement was made. With the help of his friends and mother, Hiccup had relocated the Bewilderbeast slumbering under Berserker Island to the ice cave where Valka had been living. During a two-minute exchange that made Hiccup more nervous than any of the number of times he had almost been stabbed, the elderly, dormant giant accepted Toothless as its alpha and followed him to the cave, recreating the safe haven for the survivors of Valka and Drago's armies.

What the Dragon Riders hadn't expected was that without the Bewilderbeast subconsciously driving other dragons off Berserker Island – not to mention decimating the local fish stocks – a large portion of the dragons that had come to seek refuge on Berk over the past years suddenly departed for the fresh nearby territory. While this freed a lot more resources for the Berkians, it also left a number of structures scattered around the village that had been necessary when they were up to their eyeballs in dragons but now ranged from superfluous to an unnecessary stress on roofs and houses. All extra perches, roosts, and fire suppression systems needed to be taken down and dismantled, either for storage or reuse in other building projects.

The latest Scottish attack had also prompted Astrid to launch a building plan of her own. The catapults and ballista that were normally left in storage until an invasion had been refitted to withstand the elements and mounted on swiveling pedestal of different heights. Removable walls and barriers lay neatly stacked at intervals along the cliffs by the docks, all of which saved the tribe more than half an hour in preparing the island for an incursion. Fortunately, the people of Berk were no strangers to hard work.

Hiccup held the door open for Toothless, trying to ignore how quiet the house was once the wood thumped closed behind him. It felt darker, more spacious than ever without Stoic's vast figure dominating the room.

"Hiccup," a voice called from just outside. Hiccup's mood lightened immediately.

"Astrid," Hiccup flung the door open again, shining white teeth flashing in a smile immediately. Astrid's lips curved up in response, her hand reaching up to dust a scrap of leaf out of his hair that had probably been there for most of the day without his notice.

"Wow, it looks like you've hardly been here," Astrid commented, entering the house without further preamble. Her Deadly Nadder Stormfly squawked outside, flapping her wings in an invitation for Toothless to play, which he promptly accepted.

"It's hard to think of it as my house now. Just me." Hiccup admitted, a little bit of his previous heaviness returning.

"It's not just you," Astrid immediately but gently corrected him. "It's you and Toothless and Stormfly and me." Hiccup's face flared red.

"Of course, I mean, if, you know, you still want to," he stuttered. Astrid frowned.

"Why wouldn't I still want to?" She asked slowly. Hiccup instinctively went on defensive mode. That was Astrid's warning voice. He had learned to respect the warning.

"Well, I mean, you asked for the delay," he started rambling. "And I know that we've both been really busy since I became chief and I don't know if maybe you wanttokeepyouroptionsopen – oooooo, ooow." The rest of the sentence trailed off with a hard punch to the gut, and he doubled over. Hiccup should have expected that. Nothing good ever came out of him rambling. Astrid was scowling now. Nothing good ever came out of Astrid scowling.

"Hiccup, I delayed the wedding because your dad died," she reminded him, voice sharp. "Then the Scotts attacked, and now we have to go to this negotiation meeting to work out how much they owe us. We have waited over a year and a half since you first proposed; I can wait two more weeks. You have ALWAYS been busy, and we still have time for each other. Being chief won't change that. And if you think I have eyes for anyone but you, then you're denser than Snotlout." Hiccup looked up at her, trying to look offended at the comparison but only managing to look constipated.

"That is always a low blow," he squeezed out. Toothless popped up in his peripheral vision with a saurian trill and an inquisitive head tilt. He never stopped Astrid from punching Hiccup. No one was allowed to hurt his boy except her. She could hurt him as much as she wanted. Traitor. Astrid huffed, fully aware of the dragons' support.

"Well you are if you ever have even the slightest doubt that there is anyone else in the Archipelago that I want to be with," she growled down at him, her tone not nearly as comforting as the words were.

"I know," Hiccup said, standing straight and rubbing his gut. "I'm sorry, I know. I don't really think that you do, it's just the thought of us moving in together, getting married, it's-it's just so big. And I have all this chief stuff to do and I'm still thinking about my dad and Toothless is the alpha now and sometimes when I take a deep breath it hits me that I'm going to be Astrid Hofferson's husband and you're going to be my wife and it's great but it's so big and I just get nervous and you know when I get nervous I start rambling especially if Ihaven'tbeengettingalot ofsleep -" Astrid put her hands on his shoulders, and at once the word vomit ceased. Her expression had softened at the smile that flickered onto his face when he said it's great.

"Hiccup, I get it, everything's changing, and it's all new and scary," she said softly. Astrid was never soft, except with him. "But you never have to worry about me. I'll always be there for you."

"And I'll always be there for you too," Hiccup replied, daring to wrap his arms around her waist. "Astrid, you have me, no matter what. Okay, whatever that means, whatever you want it to mean. I am with you. There will always be a Hiccup and Astrid. Always." Astrid smiled. He had said those exact words to her the day she was blinded. Every once in a while they repeated it to each other as a reminder that nothing could ever come between them.

"Well," Astrid said, smiling up at him, "I want it to mean that once we get back from this negotiation, I can stop sleeping at my parents' house." Hiccup smiled nervously until she smirked and kissed him. At once the slight innuendo melted away with his concerns about the future. There was just Astrid, and it felt right in a way only flying with Toothless could compare to. After a long moment that could have happily been longer Astrid pulled away. "Weekly existential crisis averted?" Hiccup snorted a laugh.

"It's not weekly," he protested.

"I'm generous," Astrid admitted cheekily, breaking away. "So, in these little panic fantasies that you don't really think, who else has my eye, hm?" Hiccup tensed a little. He knew that smirk. Someone, probably not him, but maybe him, was getting the ax.

"Er, well, again, I don't really think it, I know it's just panic and lack of sleep, but, uh, Eret." Hiccup admitted weakly.

"Hmm, Eret," Astrid repeated thoughtfully. "I'll have to do something about that. But for now, everyone is ready to go."

"Already?" Hiccup asked. "Snotlout and the Twins, on time?"

"With the right incentive, yes," Astrid nearly purred. Stormfly reared behind her, revealing the double-bladed ax stored across the back of the saddle. Hiccup knew exactly what his fiancé meant by incentive. Another term to avoid association with Astrid at all costs. Sure enough, Snotlout, Ruffnut, and Tuffnut were shifting in their saddles on the cliffs over the docks, grumbling amongst themselves until Astrid and Hiccup alighted.

"Oooooh, it's so good to get the group back together," Fishlegs exclaimed, his massive fur-clothed bulk bouncing on the back of his sausage-shaped Gronkle Meatlug, whose raspy yaps and drooling lava affirmed the sentiment.

"It is nice to fly with you guys again," Heather admitted as she joined the crowd. Her Razorwhip Windshear lowing in greeting to Toothless and Stormfly, sparking a brief flurry of greeting among the dragons.

"I know! Isn't it just wonderful. The friendship, the history – minus the part where I tried to kill you all. Hoo-ooo-oo-hahaha!" Dagur laughed with the usual manic grin, his orange stubble and unnaturally wide eyes reinforcing his title _the Deranged_.

"You're so much sweeter these days," Mala agreed from her place behind him, arms around her husband's waist. "My sweet Berserker King." The two brushed noses together, a display that never failed to amaze. As clean and composed as Dagur was weathered and sporadic, Mala clashed with the Berserker chief in every regard save their attitude toward each other. Atop Dagur's Triple Strike Sleuther, Mala's gold embossed katana and Dagur's well-worn battle ax completed the picture of barbaric beauty. It gave Hiccup hope for other unlikely bonds: dragon and Viking, Hiccup and Astrid.

"I hate to break up the display, but we really should get going." Atali, Chieftain of the Wingmaidens, spoke up, alighting with her second-in-command, Minden. The baby Razorwhips on their backs chirped to Windshear, who rumbled a gentle greeting, her long neck snaking around the muscular women to nuzzle the fledglings.

"The lass is right," a voice growled behind Hiccup. Alvin the Treacherous, Berk's longest standing enemy and hero of the Berserker War, strolled over. Hiccup and Alvin had made peace years ago, but it was hard not to gulp when he bared those uneven teeth in a truly frightening approximation of a smile. The only man Hiccup had ever met to rival his father in size until King Fergus, Alvin's wild black beard and armor of plate mail and dragon bone gave no illusion of gentleness. Still, Alvin was a hero of the Scottish invasion, volunteering to delay the Scots long enough for the other refuges to make it safely to Berk and mount a final defense.

"You should get going and get the coin we deserve from those damn Celts," Alvin growled. "But be careful. You could always be flying into a trap."

"When aren't we?" Snotlout offered, leaning between the horns of his Monstrous Nightmare Hookfang and trying not to stare at Minden.

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us, Alvin?" Hiccup asked. "You know these people better than any of us."

"If this turns out to be a trap, you'll need me here to launch a counter attack and fortify the island," Alvin reminded him. "And besides, I trust that you'll represent the Outcasts' interests fairly. 'Ere, this is a list of all the damaged property those Celts owe us for." Alvin thrust a slightly mangled scroll into Hiccups hand.

"I'll be sure you get what you need," Hiccup promised.

"Of course you will," Alvin exclaimed, dropping a hand like a dragon's foot on Hiccup's shoulder, nearly knocking him over. "You're an honest boy! And besides, it wouldn't do for the new chief to turn his allies into enemies so soon. Not at all, not at all." Alvin chuckled as he walked away, calling out orders to the other Outcasts to make for their ships.

"I am so glad we don't have to fight that guy anymore," Snotlout admitted.

"Me too," Hiccup agreed, storing the scroll in his travel satchel. Hiccup had been immediately nominated by the Viking tribes to represent their interests at the negotiations, but the thought of being responsible for five tribes was a little much for him. Instead, the leader of each tribe would come to stake their claim with Hiccup acting as the lead negotiator and primary representative. Heather insisted on coming with Dagur to protect her last relative and Berk friends. Atali had wanted to leave Minden behind but decided that she could use the diplomatic experience. And Hiccup couldn't have left the old gang behind if he wanted to. Mala's second Throk would stay behind with Alvin to organize rebuilding efforts, and Astrid's team of riders volunteered to take on multi-island patrol duty until the negotiations were finalized.

Hiccup had just mounted Toothless when someone called out for him.

"Wait," Eret shouted, running up the hill to catch them.

"Eret," Hiccup greeted. Despite what he told Astrid, Hiccup had no beef with the admittedly handsome new friend. The only one of Drago's men to join the Berkians, Eret had taken over responsibility for Stoic's dragon Skullcrusher.

"I wanted to say goodbye and goodluck," Eret said. "I know the Celts from my…uh, past. They are a headstrong and clever lot."

"Why don't you come with us!" Ruffnut practically yelled, leaning over Barf's head with a grin. "I'm sure you'll be a much better negotiator than Hiccup." Both Fishlegs and Snotlout turned red and looked away. Although the two boys had put aside their flirtations in favor of old flames, they remembered all too clearly how much Ruffnut preferred Eret and how hard they fought to impress her.

"No, I'm sorry, but I really think I should stay here and help with the construction." Eret glanced behind him when he said this, and Hiccup understood why Eret really wanted to stay. Some of the village still didn't fully trust that he had defected from Drago, and Eret was desperate to prove himself. Helping to reinforce the island against another attack would go a long way toward that. "I also wanted to thank Astrid for yesterday's lesson. I think I'm really making progress now." Astrid, who had been working to train Eret how to ride dragons when few else would, smiled and dismounted.

"You're a good student," she assured him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Remember what I taught you and practice while we're away. You'll be a proper dragon rider before you know it. Oh, and sorry about this, but…" Astrid kicked Eret in the shin. Hard. A truly nauseating snapping sound resounded, and Eret doubled over. Astrid grabbed Eret's arm and used his downward motion to fling him over her shoulder and off the cliff edge. The assembled riders simply stared, frozen, until they heard the _THUMP_ of Eret hitting the wooden ramp below. Hiccup started and ran over to the cliff's edge. Astrid strolled over to stand beside him. Gobber stood on the ramp below, holding Eret's wrist in his meaty hand. Hiccup's mother, Valka, was running up from the docks, her dragon Cloudjumper close behind.

"Well, ya' didn't kill him," Gobber called up. "But why in blazes did you push him over, Hiccup?"

"I didn't do anything," Hiccup responded, slightly offended that Gobber picked him as the culprit over…well, any of the others really.

"Sorry about that," Astrid said conversationally. "Hiccup was being stupid earlier, and I had to prove a point." Eret made a weak noise of acknowledgment.

"Hiccup, whatever you said to her, please, never say it again…" his voice trailed off into a groan. Hiccup winced and glanced at a completely unrepentant Astrid and an outraged Ruffnut. Everyone else seemed too busy laughing to address how much leeway the chief's future wife would clearly have.

"Don't worry Hiccup," Gobber called up. "I'm sure the lad will be fine. I'll bring him to Gothi. Spitelout and I will take care of the village while you're gone." The blacksmith assured when Hiccup opened his mouth.

"And I'll help out with the dragons," Valka offered, stepping onto Cloudjumper's outstretched wing. The dragon reared up the cliff face so that Valka could step up to the ledge. Valka smiled and brushed his bangs aside before planting a kiss on his forehead. Hiccup blushed but couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed. Two decades of wondering what it would be like to have a mother had made him immune.

"Your father would be so proud son," Valka promised softly. "Just as I am. Now go. Berk will be waiting for you when you return."

"Thanks mom," Hiccup said, voice a little thick. He remounted Toothless, and the dragon shivered with excitement. "Alright gang, let's get going!"

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Never before had Merida seen her father at a greater loss. Until the actual negotiations with the Vikings in two days, they couldn't know how much they were expected to pay, but the numbers didn't really matter. The Scots were already living on the edge. After the fourth meeting with the clan chieftains there was still no resolution. Once the other lords left King Fergus collapsed into his throne, instinctively raising his right hand to pinch the bridge on his nose before he stopped, remembering the metal hook he now bore in its place. Merida's heart squeezed at the sight. Elinor put an arm around her husband's shoulders.

"What are we going to do?" The question was rhetorical. "We don't have the food to properly feed our people, let alone pay tribute to the Vikings. If we ignore the Arendelle tax, that Ice Witch will return and destroy our fields for good. If we pay the Vikings with the crops meant for our people, the four clans will starve before winter. If we ignore the Vikings' demands, they'll bring that blasted dragon army to our homelands. And the last time we tried killing a Viking chief, we had Stoic the Vast mowing down our fleets. Even if we slaughtered the whole negotiation party, it would only delay their assault." Fergus ran a hand down his face. "We can try to fight the Vikings or Arendelle, but we don't have the manpower. Nearly every warrior in the four clans is wounded, and we're all exhausted. Any more time spent away from home, and the crops won't be harvested in time to feed anyone." Fergus looked up at his wife, who glanced to the four children seated in front of her, wide-eyed and uncertain. "Elinor, I've never seen the clans this desperate."

Queen Elinor chewed her lip, and with a start Merida realized that her mom was staring at _her._

"Well," Elinor began hesitantly. "There is…no, no, we're not goin' down tha' trail again." Fergus sat straight in his throne, eyes bright with hope.

"What is it Elinor," Fergus asked. "You thought of something, haven't you? Tell me."

"No," Elinor said more firmly. "We went down this road years ago, and it nearly destroyed our family. I won't have that disaster brought up again."

"What are you…oh," Fergus glanced at Merida. "Oh. Yes, I see what you mean."

"What the hell are ya' talkin' about," Merida exploded. She hated when people talked about her like she wasn't there. "Is there something I can do ta' help?"

"Merida," her mother began.

"Because Ah'll do it," she insisted fiercely, eyes hard as her arrowheads. "Ah want ta' help. Tell me what Ah can do."

"The last time we tried this you cut mah leg off," Fergus exclaimed.

"Ah don' know what-" Merida stopped mid rant, eyes finding the mounted head of Mordu over the throne. Oh. That was what they meant. Merida looked back down at her parents. Her father had his head in his left hand. Her mother met her gaze squarely.

"Ah learned mah lesson the first time. An' ah won' make you go through that again." She promised. Merida nodded, choked by an upswing of emotion, and swept from the room, the hem of her tunic swirling about her as she rushed off to Angus. She couldn't bring herself to stare at her parents' defeated expressions any longer, and she couldn't begin to express to them the thoughts swirling through her head. Because, as Merida rode through the nighttime forest, wind ripping at her face and fraying her hair ever further, she had never felt more trapped in her life.

Mordu's death marked the day she had won her freedom: freedom to be herself, to make her own path, to marry whomever she wished and refuse those she did not. Freedom that had seemed an impossible dream was now hers. But freedom was not free.

Her whole life she had been defined by her rebellion, her determination to be her own woman and not what tradition had told her to be. But she never thought further than the rebellion. She loved to ride with Angus, swimming the rivers and lakes, climbing the highlands, and hunting the forests, wild and free as an eagle. But now she craved something all of Scotland had failed to provide: someone to share her freedom with. None of the lords' children held her interest or even her general affection. None of the young men who came to the castle or spoke with her as she passed through their town had ever done more than pleasantly killed a few minutes of her time. God forbid her parents find out, but Merida had even considered the young women that drifted in and out of her life. But they were soft, their wills too weak. They could not understand her and made little effort to try. No one in all of Scotland could match her spirit or even win her friendship.

Merida gasped at the word, feeling it sink into her ribs like a blade. She didn't have a proper friend her age. She had her parents, her brothers, Angus, and no one else. And she had no plan or direction.

Merida's breathing turned ragged as she urged Angus ever faster, as if the wind could whip fast enough to tear the thoughts from her head and keep the tears from falling.

She had no friends. Her freedom had isolated her, and the loneliness was slowly killing her.

Finally, Merida brought Angus to a stop, filling the forest with the sound of their tattered breathing. Merida felt the damp streaks on her cheeks and roughly brushed a calloused palm across her face. She was horribly alone, and the ultimate display of her hard-won freedom had brought that to the surface in a way she could never have imagined. Merida took a deep, unsteady breath, burying her face in Angus's mane, trying to steal the horse's warmth against the chill, losing herself in his heartbeat. She lost track of how long she lay there, absently petting the creature who represented home to her more than the castle.

Merida closed her eyes. She wanted direction. She had never felt more alive than when she rode into battle against Arendelle and the English. But now that she saw the price of war she knew she couldn't just lead troops into endless battle. And the thought of ruling the clans left a bad taste in her mouth. She didn't want to be the one everyone turned to for a solution. That wasn't how she wanted to live her life, but she didn't know what she did want. Except…

Merida shivered, her sweat soaked tunic chilling in the breeze. She couldn't hide from the cold anymore. Or the truth. Merida wanted a companion. She didn't know about a husband, but she needed someone who would stay with her.

Yet as she turned back to the castle, Merida also knew that, if she ever did have someone special, he – or she – could never be some dirty Viking in a political marriage. She would have to find something unique for her.

RiseoftheBraveTangledFrozenDragonsRiseoftheBraveTangledFrozenDragons

"Ladies, gentlemen, dragons-"

"And Snotlout."

"Hey!"

"May I present to you, Dragon's Edge!" Hiccup finished, ignoring Tuffnut's jab at Snotlout. The Riders shared a collective flurry of appreciative noises. They had flown well into the night on the first day of the trip and had to rest on a bare rock jutting out of the sea. They were supposed to make it to Dragon's Edge by sunset today, but Astrid had insisted on stopping to visit Garf. The young Death Song had been overjoyed to see the Riders again, especially Astrid and Stormfly. Of course, Astrid demanded they let Garf come with them as far as the Edge, and Hiccup had wasted time to argue against it. All in all, the Riders were eager to get out of the saddles and refamiliarize themselves with the outpost that had been their home for years during the war against the dragon hunters, even if it was just for the night before they continued the journey to Scotland tomorrow.

"Alright gang, we don't know if any wild dragons have taken up residence here since we left, so let's-" Hiccup broke off and looked around in a circle to see that chaos had already descended on the Riders.

"Smidvarg!" Tuffnut yelled, embracing the white alpha Night Terror while hundreds of the small black beta dragons swarmed the gang, chirping and squealing with glee as they fought for belly rubs and head scratches. Astrid and Hiccup had their work cut out for them trying to pacify the Night Terrors and keep Garf from eating them at the same time. Once all the Night Terrors, who had apparently remained in the stables the Riders had built for them years ago, had been satisfied, the Riders had completely lost focus.

"Hey, Ruff, our boar pit is still here!" Tuffnut shouted.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?" Ruffnut asked.

"I'll go get some boars," Tuffnut yelled, running into the woods with Ruffnut close behind. Before Hiccup could go after them a spear nearly twenty feet long with a metal tip that could punch through both hulls of a dragon hunter warship slid into the ground just in front of him.

"Sorry brother," Dagur yelled from behind him. "I was just showing Mala darling the ballista you had here. Isn't it just as deadly as I told you, dear?"

"Most impressive craftsmanship, Astrid," Mala called out. Hiccup put a hand to his thumping heart and decided that he should make sure none of the other anti-siege weaponry they had installed was still functional. As he walked around the Edge he stumbled across the rest of the group outside Snotlout's hut.

"It's just not the same without the **S** ," Snotlout was lamenting, studying his old hut. Like most of the huts on the Edge, it was nearly twice the size of the family houses on Berk in order to accommodate dragons the size of Hookfang.

"Snotlout, you brought the **S** home with you," Astrid reminded him.

"Yes, and that was a good call, but I should have made a spare so that my hut would keep its majesty."

"I think it's marvelous," Minden commented, coming to stand between Snotlout and a face-palming Astrid. "I would love to see inside." Minden smiled with suggestion, and Snotlout gulped nervously.

"Minden has the right idea," Heather chimed in, dismounting Windshear and walking over to Fishlegs. "There aren't enough huts for everyone to have their own, so let's buddy up for the night. Astrid, you're ok if I stay with Fishlegs, aren't you?"

"Of course," Astrid replied with a smirk.

"But Sis," Dagur began, looking after his sister with sudden alarm.

"Perfect," Heather continued on as if she didn't hear her brother. "Come on, Fishlegs. It'll be nice to be back in your hut again." With a strength her lithe form belied Heather dragged a gaping and sweaty Fishlegs toward his hut. Fishlegs desperately looked back over his shoulder before they rounded a corner out of sight and managed to catch one of Dagur's insane warning glares before he was whisked away. Meatlug and Windshear grumbled to each other and flew off toward the stables, resolved to let their riders work things out on their own.

"Heather will be fine," Mala assured her husband. "She is a capable young woman, and Fishlegs is a very proper young Viking. But she does raise an excellent point about sleeping arrangements." Mala turned to Hiccup. "Hiccup Haddock, would you mind if my husband and I slept in your common room?"

"As a matter of fact, I would, Mala," Hiccup asserted with a smile. "We may have left Dragon's Edge, but I am still its leader. And as long as I am in charge here, no guest goes without a bed." Hiccup put a hand on the Mala and Dagur's shoulders. "The two of you can have my hut for the night. And I won't have any discussion on the matter." Dagur sniffed and swept Hiccup into a hug that drew unnatural crackling noises from his skeleton.

"Thank you, brother," Dagur said, eyes brimming with tears that could come and go like mist.

"You're welcome, brother," Hiccup choked out. He rarely returned the term of endearment, mainly because Hiccup and Dagur were not brothers and Dagur had initially used it to taunt Hiccup when they were enemies. But once in a blue moon, during an especially emotional moment or when he wanted to be hundred percent sure Dagur would go along with a plan, Hiccup returned the sentiment. Dagur grinned like the madman he was and turned toward Hiccup's hut, sniffling openly. Mala followed, sparing Hiccup a knowing smile that he couldn't quite interpret.

"Atali, you, Minden, and your dragons are more than welcome to stay in my hut," Astrid spoke up to fill the quiet.

"Thank you, Astrid, but I believe Minden convinced Snotlout to share his hut while the rest of us were distracted." Sure enough the two brunettes were nowhere to be seen. Astrid snorted.

"Guess Minden and Heather realized what they threw away," Astrid chuckled. "Minden could do better though."

"Better her than Ruffnut," Hiccup said with feeling. Astrid made a noise halfway between disgust and assent. During the war with the dragon hunters Minden and Heather had maintained flirtatious off and on relationships with Snotlout and Fishlegs respectively. Once the war ended and the Riders returned to Berk, the girls broke up with their boyfriends, claiming that the greater distance between islands made a relationship impractical. The boys had been briefly devastated, and during a mead fueled night of mutual comfort realized that they both thought one Ruffnut Thorston was cute. This sparked several months of the two boys flirting with the Loki-devotee, which really no one found charming. Fortunately, once they saw that Ruffnut was head over heels for Eret and almost completely ignorant of anyone else's existence, the boys slacked off some. When the Riders were reunited with their allies during the Scottish invasion, Minden and Heather had seemed surprised and disturbed to find their old flames nursing a soft spot for someone else. As Astrid reminded Hiccup, Viking women fought for what they saw as theirs; it wasn't long before the old couples had tentatively rekindled. It looked like being on the Edge had reminded the girls of the good old days before what everyone called 'the Ruffnut phase'.

"Minden's…choices aside," Atali cut into Hiccup's reminiscence, wrinkling her nose slightly. "Are you sure you want to give up your room? I would be happy to bed down with the dragons for the night."

"No, Atali, I insist," Astrid said. "It's like Hiccup said, all guests get a bed at Dragon's Edge." Atali thanked them and leapt up, the baby Razorwhip on her back instinctively flying as Atali directed.

"Don't you want to sleep in your old hut?" Hiccup asked as they walked down to the combat dome, sleeping rolls in hand and dragons scampering happily around their feet.

"You gave Dagur and Mala your place."

"Yes, but I was kind of hoping to spend the night…" Hiccup realized he had said more than he meant to. Astrid cocked an eyebrow. "With you, like in the old days." Hiccup finished with a sheepish grin. Astrid smirked.

"Those were fun times," Astrid agreed. "But I think a night under the stars with you is equally fun." Astrid plopped down and spread out her roll of furs. Hiccup smiled and spread out next to her. As they lay back and watched the stars, listening to Toothless and Stormfly jostle with Garf for a comfy position to curl up in, something so simple it seemed profound struck Hiccup.

"Hey, I know that look," Astrid murmured, rolling over to prop her head up on one arm and look at him. "What's going on in that Hiccupy brain of yours?" Hiccup smiled and reached over to take her hand in his.

"Astrid, this is what it means to be free," he whispered. "We aren't out here just to relive the glory days. We're out here because our people and our dragons need us to be, but it's not just some chore we have to do to keep living. We're out here because we love the people we live with, and we'll do anything to help them. We choose to take on the big jobs or the scary missions not as an obligation but because we want to see the people we care about safe and happy. Freedom isn't about doing whatever you want. It's about finding your place in the world and doing what you have to because you love the ones you share your life with." Hiccup leaned up and began gesturing toward the spread of huts over to their left.

"This is the place where we founded the Edge. Over there is where we first kissed, and that's where I proposed to you. And we never would have come here if we hadn't volunteered to track down Dagur when he threatened Berk. And I would've died on that island way over there if Dagur hadn't saved me, and he only saved me because his love for Heather helped him reform. And if Heather hadn't forgiven Dagur and learned to love him in return, we wouldn't have been able to reinstate him as Berserker chief and Savage would probably have taken over. And if Viggo hadn't learned to love dragons, Johann and Krogan would have won the war. All of this, Astrid, we did because we cared about the people around us. And I don't think we ever felt more alive or more free."

The wind tussled his hair, and Hiccup took a deep breath of loam and sea spray and dragon musk, relishing the feeling for a moment. He glanced over to see Astrid staring up at him with a soft smile.

"You probably think I'm crazy, don't you?" Astrid placed a hand over his heart and effortlessly pushed him down, rolling on top of him and pulling her furs over them in one smooth movement.

"I think it's easy to see why I fell in love with you," she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair and kissing him long and slow and sweet. Hiccup's world was reduced to Astrid's lips, her warmth, her soft grip on his head, the tickle of her hair on his forehead, her scent – and her skirt of leather and iron spikes.

"Sorry," she laughed as she shifted off to cuddle against his side instead.

"Do you ever consider taking that thing off," Hiccup wheezed, sucking in through his teeth as he tightened a length of scrap cloth around the shallow puncture. Astrid leaned up to brush her lips over his cheek and lingered there a moment.

"Make Snotlout play host for Dagur and Mala on the way back, and I will." Hiccup turned toward her, eyes the size of coins; and Astrid laughed, burying her face in his shoulder as she shifted to get comfortable. Hiccup looked behind him to where Garf had curled around Toothless and Stormfly. All three dragons were staring at the riders but put their heads down on their paws and pretended to go to sleep the moment Hiccup looked their way. Toothless ruined the image by cracking one eye open. Stifling a laugh, Hiccup put an arm around Astrid's shoulder and waist and snuggled closer.

They were truly free.


	3. Chapter 2: Introductions

Chapter 2: Introductions

"Boys! Don't touch those sweets. Those are for our guests."

"Isn't that being a wee bit too friendly, Mum?" Merida defended her brothers at the same moment she took the pastry out of Hammish's hand for herself. Elinor raised a disapproving eyebrow but seeing that her daughter had submitted to wearing a nicer ceremonial dress decided to pick her battles.

"Need I remind you that we lost the war."

"Yeah, mum, that's a wee bit obvious," Merida drawled with an eye roll, swinging herself into her throne and plopping down with her legs hanging over the left armrest. Elinor deftly swung her the right way around as she moved about the great hall, directing servants and guards. Representatives from the four clans milled about, hindering the preparations. The lords of the other three clans sat about King Fergus, trying to formulate a last minute plan.

"Then you should know the importance of making a strong impression. We cannoo allow the Vikings to think we are weak." _Even though we are._ The thought went unsaid. "We have to do our best to put on a good display and discourage them from being too greedy in their settlements." Elinor looked back out over the banquet table, which was set for all the lords and nobles of the four clans with twenty extra seats for Viking representatives. Though the spread was more than anyone else in the clans could afford, it was far smaller than their normal feasts; and it showed in the stretches of blank wood that peeked out between serving trays. "Though I'm not sure how we'll be able to hide it." Merida grit her teeth.

"They didn't give us much time," she complained. "Our ships just got back a week ago. They must have set out right after our fleet."

"True, their longships are a bit slower than our own," Elinor admitted, snapping her fingers at a serving girl and directing her to place a whole roasted boar on the other side of the table. "But the Vikings have never been a patient lot."

"How do we even know they'll be here today?" Merida grumbled. Though her dress did not restrict her movement as much as the formal garment she had worn when the heirs competed for her hand, it was not nearly as comfortable as her green tunic.

"We don't, but this is the day they set for the negotiations. We have to assume they'll be on time."

"If ya' ask me, they're already late," Merida shot back, flinging herself out of the throne and leaning against the wall. Twilight had fallen, and still there was no report from the welcoming party at the docks of the Vikings' arrival.

"Arrghh, not enough that they're robbin' us, now they're making us wait on 'em," Fergus grumbled, stomping away from the talbe. Elinor placed a hand on her chest.

"I know this whole situation is terrible, but this is our one chance to protect what we have left," she reminded him. "We need to keep a level head. So please, stay civil and let me lead the negotiations."

"Civil!? With Vikings?" Fergus exclaimed. The other lords cried out in agreement. Elinor frowned, and they all quieted, glancing down at their feet like chastised children. "Al'righ," he grumbled. "I'll leave as much to ya' as they allow. But I think they might insist on having me do the negotiatin', bein' king an' all." A horn sounded outside. Fergus stood ramrod straight. Merida jerked up. That wasn't the alert that the Vikings had arrived. That was an attack alarm. The rush of guards running out of the castle filtered into the hall. Fergus and Merida ran ahead to join the rush of soldiers.

"Dragons! Dragons!" A panicked guard screamed from the ramparts. Merida's blood ran cold. Dragons were rare in Scotland. Merida had never seen one before, but she had heard tales of great beasts swooping down from the sky and setting fire to villages. She wished she had her bow, but she grabbed a spear someone had dropped and joined the men assembling outside the castle doors. Archers were firing scattered shafts into the sky. Merida looked up, and her nerves wavered. Six dragons wheeled above the Scots, screeching as they wove between arrows with uncanny grace. Mordu had been bad enough, but six dragons…Merida grit her teeth and leveled her spear at the sky with a shout.

"Catapults," Fergus yelled, and three Scots began to load a rock into the long throwing arm. Suddenly the air was filled with a horrible whistling scream that raised the hairs on the back of Merida's neck. A blue streak cut through the night faster than any arrow, and the catapult's stone exploded into gravel, knocking the three Scots carrying it to the ground. A shadow, barely visible in the dark, whirled past, so quick she could barely see it.

"Stop shooting," someone yelled. "We're the Vikings representatives!" Merida looked around wildly, but she couldn't see who had spoken. From the confused looks on the soldiers, neither could they. Some of the archers lowered their bows, but others continued to shoot. A cry of alarm sounded from above.

"Thor almighty! We aren't here to attack!" The same voice shouted in disbelief. "Do you WANT a war?" Fergus sucked in a breath next to Merida and began rushing among the archers, forcing their bows down.

"Stop, stop, it's them, it's the negotiators!" Confused shouts rang among the warriors, but they eventually obeyed their king. The six dragons hovered high above the Scots for a moment before alighting in front of the armed forces, all six beasts growling and arching their spines. With a jolt, Merida saw that there were people on their backs. Very angry people baring rough axes and horned helmets. Vikings. She remembered that her father said the Vikings had been riding dragons, but she realized that until now she hadn't really believed him. The twilight rippled, and a black shape materialized in front of the dragons. Merida could barely see the beast in the darkness, but it's yellow-green eyes reflected the moonlight like some giant cat, pupils narrowed and white teeth flashing.

A man dressed in red and black leather dismounted the beast, only slightly more visible than his mount. He said something to the beast in a language Merida didn't know. If he was a Viking, then it was probably Nordic; but the language sounded so rough and ugly that Merida was surprised they could stand to speak to each other at all. He turned, face hidden behind a leather war helm, familiar from description. Merida groaned internally.

"Not a typical greeting for a diplomatic mission, but I'm guessing you weren't expecting us to come in by dragon." The leather-clad man said, his Gaelic broken and slow, as if it were a second language; his tone was surprisingly light, like a younger man just out of his teens. He removed his helmet, and Merida sucked in a breath. "I am Hiccup Horrendous Haddock the Third, son of Stoick the Vast and Chief of Berk." He stated, head high and voice imperious. His serious expression broke into a lopsided smile, and Merida felt herself flush. "But then, I guess you already knew that." A barely restrained huff of nervous laughter made it past his lips. Merida was riveted.

He was without a doubt the most attractive man she had ever seen. His light brown hair was a shaggy mess, long enough to reach the base of his neck without being a shoulder-long curtain. A couple tiny braids stuck out of his right side, and it made him look cute, almost whimsical. His eyes were a bright green like the new leaves of early spring, brimming with dry humor as if he was used to being fired upon by large groups of warriors and it no longer fazed him. He didn't have the strong, broad faces of the handsome Scots that always came to woo her, but his soft features and half-smirk seemed almost playful despite the gravity of the situation. He was skinny, a toothpick compared to the Scots and other Vikings, but he carried himself with an easy pose that made Merida suspect he was no stranger to conflict.

"We were expecting you to come by boat," King Fergus growled. "Why have you brought these monsters to our lands if ya' are here for a negotiation, eh?" Hiccup frowned, and though Merida reminded herself that he was the enemy, she couldn't help staring at the little pout of his lower lip.

"OK, first of all, dragons are not monsters. And how else were we supposed to get here so soon?" Hiccup responded. "We needed to figure out exactly how much you owed us and let you sail back, but we also want to wrap this up as quickly as possible." So that's why the Vikings arranged to meet so soon; they didn't need to waste time sailing to DunBroch.

"Well then, let's not delay," King Fergus growled. "Your dragons can wait out here." One of the other Vikings, a raven-haired beauty with bright green eyes, said something in Nordic to Hiccup. Hiccup responded easily. Merida wondered if she was his sister. The Vikings discussed among themselves for about half a minute before Hiccup pointed to the raven-haired girl and two blond Vikings who looked so similar they must have been twins. The raven-haired girl turned to a wild-looking man with a thin orange beard and too-wide eyes and said something soft. The wild Viking smiled, and Merida shuddered. But he bounded off his dragon and hugged the raven-haired girl tightly, picking her up off her feet and swaying with the force of the hug before plopping her down. The girl smiled briefly, but her lips thinned in displeasure as the other Vikings dismounted and began gathering the dragons around her. Two little silver dragons fluttered off the backs of two Viking women and settled about the wings of a larger silver beast. Merida wondered if this was a mother and her hatchlings.

When the raven-haired girl tried to guide Hiccup's dragon away, the dragon shook her off and screeched. The Scots started collectively and readied their weapons. Immediately all the dragons growled, raised their wings, and bared their fangs. Hiccup appeared entirely nonplussed. He held out his hands to the dragons and said something in Nordic. The other Vikings copied them, soothing their beasts and lowering their heads with gentle hands until the dragons stood down.

"Please lower your weapons," Hiccup asked the Scots. "They really don't like having pointy objects…well, pointed at them." The Scots grumbled, but King Fergus reluctantly raised his hand in an order to stand down. Hiccup began speaking to his dragon in Nordic. The dragon curled its lithe body around him and barked, glaring at the Scots. Hiccup rolled his eyes and said something else. The dragon growled, then trilled like a bird. Hiccup snorted and responded. Merida watched what she slowly realized was a conversation with rapture.

"Is there a problem?" King Fergus asked impatiently.

"Uh, yeah, my dragon doesn't really trust you," Hiccup said, scratching his head. "He's not going to let me go in without him."

"You can't even control your own animal?" Fergus cried. "What kinda chief are ya'?" Hiccup's eyes narrowed. Fergus had to stand at least a foot taller than him, but the Viking didn't flinch.

"Dragons are not just pets," Hiccup rebuked. "They have their own minds, their own…" Hiccup trailed off, frowning and moving his hand in the air, muttering to himself. Merida frowned. "Wills!" Hiccup said, snapping his fingers. "Knew I'd find the word." Merida grinned. So he wasn't crazy. Then she wondered why she cared. "And some of them develop attitudes." The dragon snorted just as Hiccup had a minute ago. "Yeah, he's not going anywhere without me." Fergus growled and beckoned the other lords together. The four had a hurried, whispered discussion with lots of expletives. Finally they broke away with scowls.

"We will allow you to bring in this dragon but no other," Fergus announced. "As a gesture of apology for our attack."

"Thank you," Hiccup said. He turned and said something to the others. The remaining dragons snapped and shuffled about but allowed their riders to walk away, necks straining to keep them in sight as they approached the Scots. Hiccup scratched his dragon's head and said something in a tone that was both tired and annoyed, and the beast warbled. A young woman cloaked in a red tunic and fur hood that hid the upper half of her face smiled and put a hand on Hiccup's shoulder. She said something, and he smirked. His response had a playful edge to it, and Merida was instantly alert. As the Vikings met the Scots one of the Dingwalls held out a hand for the blonde's ax. She scowled, said something in her language, and bounced the butt of her ax off his foot, sending the Dingwall hopping back with an undignified yelp.

"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Dingwall accosted, glaring at the woman. The woman stared pointedly at Hiccup, who met her stare for a full three seconds before heaving a frustrated sigh.

"She said that if you're all going to be armed to the teeth, then she's not giving up her ax." Hiccup said. "And before you say anything, you did come to greet us with a full army." King Fergus scowled

"All weapons are allowed in the dining hall," he said reluctantly. Merida wondered where that rule had been all her life. "However, know that-You!". King Fergus cut himself off with a yell. He took a step back and scowled darkly. Merida hadn't seen him look that way since Mordu. She glanced over at the Vikings and saw that the Scots were backing away from the hooded woman, pointing and shouting. Hiccup frowned, but the hooded woman hefted her ax over her shoulders and scratched her thigh, seemingly unperturbed.

"Is there a problem, King Fergus?" Hiccup asked, and Merida could hear the warning in his voice. The Scots were beginning to wear his patience thin. Merida glanced at her dad. He tightened his jaw, probably biting down a curse.

"Of course not," he ground out, turning on heel and stomping back to the castle. Hiccup glanced at the rest of the Vikings, shrugged, and followed the king, flanked by the hooded woman on his right and the black dragon on his left. Merida started and jogged ahead, weaving through the Scots to catch up with her father. She had forgotten that she was supposed to be in her throne at the head of the hall when the guests arrived. Her mother had told her five times. She managed to make it to the throne just in time to receive a stern glare from her mother without getting a reprimand.

Exactly on time, in her opinion.

The guards of DunBroch assembled along the walls of the great hall. The other three clans assembled around the Vikings with the lords of Dingwall, MacIntosh, and MacGuffin arranged in front but below the dais of King Fergus and the royal family. A company of bagpipers began an off-key song, and the Vikings winced, looking about the great hall and its many taxidermies with clear disapproval. Merida was a little offended. These hunting trophies were examples of her family's strength, especially the over the wild bears and boars that ravaged Scotland.

But looking down at the Vikings, she saw how large they were compared to the Scots. Three of the Viking women and Hiccup stood taller than ninety-percent of the Scots around them, especially Lord Dingwall on his stool. While most of the Viking men were a bit shorter, they were all more beefy and muscular than any of the Scots except Fergus and Dingwall's bear of a soldier. Though the Vikings were clearly nervous, they weren't particularly afraid. Four of them stared about with calculating expressions, as if they were planning escape routes. All of the Vikings bore burn scars. Hiccup's dragon growled softly, baring his teeth at the bristling army of swords and spears. Merida's stomach sunk. If beasts like that were so common in the archipelago as to be pack animals, then maybe the great stuffed bears seemed like petty trophies to them. Whatever the reason, the Viking were not impressed or intimidated by the Scots' show of force.

"Well, ah, here we are," Fergus announced. "The four clans, and, uh, the Viking, negotiators…here for, well, ah, negotiating." Merida sank into her throne a little. Clearly her father's public speaking hadn't improved. "So, welcome, and, uh…apologies for trying to shoot you down!" The Vikings began whispering among themselves until Hiccup shushed them.

"Ya' got sometin' ta' say, then say it already," Lord MacIntosh yelled. "Or are ya a wee cryin' baby withoot yar beasts!" The other Scots roared in approval. The Vikings stared blankly at each other. A rotund mountain of a man with short straw-blond hair wearing what appeared to be an entire skinned bear pelt stepped up to Hiccup and said something to him. Hiccup shrugged one shoulder. The dragon hissed at the noise and stretched its wings slightly. The Scots began yelling even louder. Merida could see that there was only one way this could possible go well.

Sure enough, Elinor stood and stared sternly around the room, pacing once in front of Fergus and the lords. Back straight as the horizon, head high, emerald robes shimmering, dual braids glinting with gold weave, she was the essence of a queen; and the lords cowed under her silent judgement. Once total silence had been restored to the hall, Elinor turned to the Vikings and smiled.

"Welcome, Vikings," she began, her voice clear and strong without a trace of threat or resentment. Merida wondered where she learned to speak with such control. "Though we have been enemies in the past, it is the intention of this gathering, which you suggested at the end of our last confrontation, to establish a lasting peace between our peoples." Some of the Scots grumbled, but Hiccup smiled. Merida flushed.

"Thank you, Queen Elinor," Hiccup said. While he didn't have her mother's grace, his voice was the perfect tone and volume to convey a message directed at her mother but audible to the extended crowd. Hiccup stepped forward, and only when the click of metal on stone reached her ears did Merida realize that Hiccup's left leg from the knee down was a contraption of wood and steel instead of flesh and bone. "Ever since the end of the great dragon wars, Berk has sought to defend the peace. But my tribe has never been alone in the fight for lasting peace." He gestured with a wave of his arm to the Vikings behind him. "Our allies who you, ah, attacked, have voted me the head negotiator for this meeting. But they speak for their own tribes." Hiccup stepped to the side so as not to block any of his companions.

"Might I present, Atali, Chieftess of the Wingmaidens, and her lieutenant, Minden." A young, slim woman with strawberry-blonde hair and green eyes stepped forward and inclined her head. A stocky brunette with a square jaw moved to stand next to her. Both were shorter than the other Viking women and wore leather pants, boots, shining metallic armor over their chests, shoulders, forearms, and calves. Atali was clearly distinguished from her lieutenant by her gold and silver circlet and tunic, gold embossed armor, and purple pants.

"Mala, Queen of the Defenders of the Wing," Hiccup continued. A woman covered head to toe in gold-lined black leather armor stepped forward, her posture every bit as regal as Elinor's but her expression colder, less mother than potential killer. Merida noted the well-worn scabbard for her long saber and short cropped blonde hair, clear indications of a seasoned fighter.

"And her husband, Dagur the Deranged, Chief of the Berserks."

Dagur grinned, and Merida scowled at the sugary politeness in the expression. Dagur looked every bit the mad Viking Merida had grown up hearing about. His arms were as big around as her waist. His wild hair and short, scraggly beard had probably never seen a comb. Three lines of blue war paint cut across his left eye, highlighting the brightness of its green and making the right eye, marred by jagged webbing of scars, seem duller by comparison. His sleeveless chest plate of leather and steel bore the head-on impression of a frilled dragon. Layers of leather and metal padding extended from his armored kilt. His smile was too wide and his eyes too bright, lit from behind with some insane power Merida didn't want to know about. Clearly he had earned his title.

"Alvin the Treacherous, Chief of the Outcasts, has asked me to stand in his place and represent his tribe as well as my own while he leads the reconstruction effort back home." Grumbles broke out among the Clansmen, and Merida understood their suspicion. Alvin had led one of the fiercest battles during the war. He didn't seem the type to stay behind and build houses. Elinor cleared her throat, and the room quieted once more. With a gracious smile Elinor nodded for Hiccup to continue.

"And I suppose you already know me, so here are my friends, the leaders of the Berk Dragon Academy and original Dragon Riders." Hiccup began gesturing to the remaining Vikings one by one. "Snotlout Jorgenson." A short but very muscular Viking stepped forward, puffing out his chest of chainmail and waving around the room as if he had won a tournament. "Fishlegs Ingerman." The large blonde Viking grinned.

"Hello," he said in a rush. "It's such an honor to be here, and to-" he caught Hiccup's eyes, cleared his throat, and fell silent. Merida's eyebrows flicked up. So more than one of the Vikings could speak their tongue.

"Tuffnut and Ruffnut Thorston are outside with Dagur's sister, Heather," Hiccup continued. "And this is general Astrid Hofferson of the Berk Guard, my second in command, and leader of the Dragon Rider A-team." The woman in the red tunic took off her hood, and Merida sucked in a breath she couldn't release. Astrid was without a doubt the most beautiful creature she had ever laid eyes on. What in that frozen wasteland bred such beauties as those two Berkians?

Astrid's eyes were such a bright blue they should have come with a warning. Her golden hair was tied in a large ponytail and an adorable braid down the side of her head. The bangs on the left half of her face danced freely over her eye, as if happy to have escaped from her worn leather headband. Studded iron pads encased her shoulders, and she wore a fur skirt striped with leather and iron spikes below a belt of mole skulls dipped in silver. Blue leggings were only just visible above knee high fur boots that matched the thick fur covers over her forearms. Her red tunic fit her hourglass form like a second skin.

Merida's father was less impressed than his daughter.

"You I remember," Fergus growled darkly. Astrid smirked, transforming her angelic visage into something fearsome; and Merida realized just why Fergus, and everyone else, seemed to hate her _. A golden-haired Valkyrie with an axe_. She was the one who had nearly killed him. Seeing her expression, it wasn't hard to believe. Upon closer inspection, Astrid had a physique Merida might have killed for. The woman appeared to have been stripped of everything except the necessary bone and muscle. Her easy stance didn't disguise the ripple on her arms as she crossed them or the motion of abs under the equally tight tunic. The ax slung across her back seemed almost natural to her. Little scars flickered across the small amount of skin visible in the torchlight. Hiccup moved to stand closer to her. Merida had never hated anyone more in her lifetime.

Hiccup's dragon growled. The family boar hounds barked. The dragon growled louder. The dogs stopped barking.

"Oh," Hiccup started nervously. "And this is my dragon, Toothless, Alpha of all dragons in the extended archipelago." Toothless snarled, rearing his head to properly bear a mouth of very sharp teeth.

"Toothless, you say?" Elinor asked.

"Yeah, people ask that a lot," Hiccup responded. "It makes sense when he likes you." The Scots started muttering amongst each other. "So, should we get started on the negotiations?"

"Very expedient of you, Chief Haddock."

"Uh, Hiccup, please."

"But it is customary for us to hold a feat for our guests." Elinor rolled on with a gesture to the right-side door to the dining hall. "Shall we?" The big dark-haired Viking, Snotlout – what kind of name was that? – rubbed his hands together and said something clearly along the lines of **yes please**. The Scots laughed and cheered in approval, storming the dining hall. Hiccup looked about at his companions, who shrugged and followed their hosts. When Merida saw the seating arrangements, she almost ran to get to her seat. Her father was at the head, with Merida at his right side and Hiccup on Merida's right. Merida plopped happily onto the bench and turned to try and start a conversation with Hiccup only to see Astrid sit on Hiccup's other side. Suddenly Merida didn't have much of an appetite. She grabbed a roll of bread before everyone had sat down and began tearing it into pieces. She glanced over to see Hiccup looking at her. Evidently he had said something and was waiting for a response. Merida felt her mouth move but no words came out. Her face felt very hot. Hiccup frowned and shifted in his seat. He glanced at Astrid, who smiled reassuringly. Merida huffed.

It's not like she cared. Right?


	4. Chapter 3: Stories and Frustration

I must apologize for saying that the Scots spoke English in the previous chapter, it is being updated currently. Some people have asked about the line break I used in the last chapter: yes, Jack Frost and Rapunzel will appear in coming chapters, but their roles are smaller. 

Also, for a bit of historical context, the Dutch invaded and conquered the Scottish and English in medieval Europe. Arendelle is located in roughly the same location as the Dutch were in this time period, so the events of the story are more or less historically accurate (minus the magic).

For all of you Merricup and Hiccelsa shippers, I sympathize with you; but Astrid is number one. Objective fact. Not that we won't get some Merricup or Hiccelsa (we will get both starting next chapter), but Hiccup and Astrid are loyal to each other above anyone except (maybe) their dragons.

Also, all chapters are edited and updated each time a new chapter is posted.

Feel free to comment, review, or complain.

 **Chapter 3: Stories and Frustration**

"And then I lifted the Northern scum by the throat and drove my sword through his gut – yeouch! Elinor, what did you – oh, right. Sorry, again." King Fergus's already ruddy face was a solid brick red as Hiccup and Fishlegs translated yet another story of the Scots butchering their people. Merida hadn't realized how many of the clans' stories involved killing Vikings until the lords, attempting to entertain their guests with tales of their deeds, practically force fed themselves their own feet. At this rate, they'd either have to scrap the plan of endearing the Vikings to them or just invite them to stay permanently because it would take a lifetime to undo the damage of the past hour. Dagur said something to Hiccup from across the table, then rolled his eyes, shrugged, laughed, and said something else.

"Dagur wishes us to note that, for the record, he is pretty sure the man you stabbed in that last story was his great uncle." Hiccup said dryly, putting down his fork completely. "He also wants to stress that he never liked his great uncle much anyway." Some of the lords laughed, but Elinor looked mortified. Merida understood just how bad the situation was, but she was more curious as to why Hiccup wasn't eating. The other Vikings were all eating, albeit suspiciously, and seemed to be enjoying the food (and absolutely nothing else). But Hiccup had eaten only a bread roll and picked at a pheasant leg. Toothless stood between him and Astrid sniffing his plate. Hiccup tossed him the pheasant leg. She wondered if he was feeling sick.

"Merida!" With a jolt, Merida realized her mother had called her name at least three times now.

"Yes Mum," Merida yelped, sitting straight. A few of the Scots who knew her better chuckled, but Queen Elinor was not amused.

"Why don't the three of us tell the story of Mordu," Elinor suggested.

"Of course," Merida said, shooting to her feet. She moved to stand between her parents' seats as Fergus began the tale with the attack on wee child Merida and the loss of his leg. Elinor continued with how they had set up the suitors for Merida's marriage. Merida picked up the tale with her plan to win her own hand, and when the Vikings heard how her plan turned out they laughed and clapped. Astrid and Atali stood up and toasted her – or at least Merida assumed that's what they did because all the Viking raised their cups to Merida and drank after they spoke. Merida skated over the details of the fight with her mum and jumped into the story of following the wisps, which apparently the Vikings had never heard of and needed explained.

When Merida explained how the witch's spell had backfired, Hiccup called for a pause in the story.

"I'm sorry, you asked for a spell to change your mother, and she gave you a spell to change her into a bear?" Hiccup clarified.

"Ya, got a lot more than I bargained for with that one," Merida tried for a joke and a smile.

"Who, why, wha- how did she make that jump in logic? How was 'bear' at all implied in the conversation?" Merida shrugged and laughed. As much as she tried to remind herself that he was he enemy, Merida could not deny that Hiccup's confusion was adorable. Hiccup called for a pause in the story as he translated the latest tidbit to the others, which sparked a brief flurry of Nordic questions that ended in laughter. Hiccup turned back to the family, and they continued the story. Elinor, Merida, and Fergus finished each other's sentences, Merida stalking around the table when miming Mordu and Fergus drawing his sword to demonstrate how he hunted Elinor in bear form and dueled Merida. Her brothers acted out various other parts in the story, including their own role in distracting Fergus and freeing Merida.

"And then, as the demon bear Mordu began his final assault, the ancient standing stone fell upon him, crushing him flat." Merida finished the story with gusto, her whole body turning as she mimed the fall of the monolith. "And the spirit of the ancient prince, the last victim of the witch's bear spells, rose from the body of Mordu and passed on. But the sun was rising, and without time to spare I threw the tapestry over my mum."

"But it was not until Merida apologized for her selfishness and forgave me for all the ways I had hurt her was the curse broken and our family restored." Elinor finished, taking Merida's hand and drawing her daughter into an embrace as Fergus swept the both of them into his massive arms. The Scots roared in approval. Most of them had been at the actual event and were determined to see it become the fledgling kingdom's first legend. Fishlegs and Hiccup finished translating, and the Vikings clapped along with the Scots.

"Well what about you lot?" Lord MacIntosh bellowed. "You got any stories worth sharing?"

"Aye, you dare to try and top the legend of DunBroch and Mordu?" Lord MacGuffin added. Once translated, the Vikings immediately began arguing amongst each other, some even drawing their weapons and slamming them into the table as they tried to emphasize their point. After nearly a minute of debate Astrid rose from her seat and released a whistle that sliced through Merida's eardrums like a blade. Everyone in the room stopped talking except for the hounds, which whined in discomfort. Astrid said something and smiled down at Hiccup, who began scratching the back of his head. The Vikings looked at each other and seemed to come to a consensus. Hiccup started to stammer something but stopped when Astrid put a hand on his shoulder. She smiled and said something softly. The other Vikings nodded affirmations and smiled, settling back. Hiccup, eyes on his general, returned Astrid's smile and stood.

"Well, we do have this one story," Hiccup began, running a hand through his already messy hair. Astrid sat down, and Toothless curled his body around Hiccup, nosing his hand. Hiccup began scratching the triangular head, and the dragon purred like a giant cat. "This is the story of how the Great Dragon Wars ended and how I met my best friend." Toothless warbled, rising to sit with his head a little above the Viking's, and Hiccup threw an arm around his neck.

"Six years ago, Berk was in constant war against the dragons," Hiccup began. "We hunted them relentlessly, and they raided our livestock more nights than they didn't. Back then I was small. Well, smaller. I couldn't swing a sword, I couldn't lift a war hammer, I couldn't even throw a pair of bolas. But I was determined…" Hiccup swallowed, looking guiltily at Toothless, who nuzzled him. "I was determined to kill a dragon because back then killing a dragon meant everything. So one night, during a raid, I left the forge where I was supposed to stay and ran up to a hill overlooking the village."

"See, I couldn't use, well, really any weapons. But I could build all sorts of dangerous devices, all of which inevitably backfired and broke." Hiccup paused to let the Scots chuckle, rolling his eyes like this was an old routine. Merida slowly sat next to him, unable to align the Hiccup in the story with the man before her. "That night we were attacked by Gronckles, Deadly Nadders, Hideous Zipplebacks, and a Monstrous Nightmare. But the dragon I was looking for was the one nobody had ever seen, much less killed: the ultimate prize, a Night Fury. This dragon never stole food, never showed itself, and never missed a shot." Toothless warbled, and Hiccup stroked his neck.

"I set up a bola launcher, the, er, Mangler, as I had called it, and waited for the Night Fury to fire." The Scots were riveted to Hiccup, but the Viking's already choppy Gaelic stuttered out. He looked back to his dragon, who promptly licked his face. Hiccup cried out and tried to wipe the thick saliva off his face while the dragon chuffed, a rippling saurian bark that reminded Merida of laughter. Hiccup deadpanned and flicked some of the dragon's spit back into his face. The dragon return Hiccup's unamused deadpan. Merida bit her knuckle to stifle a laugh as the pair turned back to the audience, all nerves gone in the face of their shared silliness.

"Anyway," Hiccup continued, talking over the laughing Scots. "I managed to hit him. But while I was celebrating, the Monstrous Nightmare destroyed the Mangler and chased me down the hill into the village. By the time my father saved me, the dragon had burned down a giant torch post, and the debris scattered the Vikings holding a flock of Nadders hostage. Because I had left the forge, the dragons escaped with a whole herd of sheep. Stoick, my father, was furious. No one believed me when I told them what had happened. But I was dumb, and I was stubborn; so I immediately disobeyed the order to stay home and went looking for the first dragon I had ever brought down."

"At first, I thought he was dead. When I saw he was still alive…I couldn't kill him. I looked into his eyes and saw that he was as scared as I was." Hiccup looked up at his dragon, who purred and wrapped his tail around Hiccup's legs. "So I let him go. He almost instantly pounced on me. I was pinned a rock with his claws at my throat, and he roared like nothing I had ever heard, then just turned and flapped off. Being the Viking that I am…I fainted on the spot." Hiccup paused again for the Scots to laugh, rolling his eyes and leaning against the dragon's side.

"So the next day, My father leaves with the other warriors to look for the dragon nest and I go into dragon-killing school. Of course I almost die in the first four minutes. But Gobber, my mentor and the island's dragon-killing teacher, said something that really stuck with me: a dragon will always go for the kill. But just last night a dragon had spared me. Why? So I tracked Toothless here to a cove where he was stranded. I noticed two things: one, he couldn't fly, two, he only had a fin on the right side of his tail. That night, I realized that I was the first person to ever see a Night Fury in the nearly four hundred years since Vikings first sailed to the Archipelago. The next day, I came back to the cove with a fish. Honestly, I had no idea what I was doing. Toothless was not very happy to see me, but after I threw my dagger away he decided that he should seriously consider my gift."

"Hold up," Fergus interrupted, holding up a hand. "You walked right into a dragon's den, and you threw your weapon away? What in blazes were ya' thinkin'?"

"Very little." Hiccup admitted. "The general idea was that he spared my life once before and if he didn't like Vikings with weapons, maybe he'd prefer a Viking with fish." Hiccup answered with a lopsided smile and a shrug. "I ended up spending the whole day in the cove, watching Toothless. By sunset…we had bonded." Toothless bumped Hiccup with his nose, and Hiccup smiled fondly at the great scaly beast. "That night, Gobber told me and the others the story of how he lost his arm and leg. He explained that the best way to kill a dragon was to cripple the wings and tail. A downed dragon is a dead dragon. So I started the craziest invention of my lifetime: I built a new tail fin for Toothless." Merida glanced down at the dragon's tail: one black fin and one red.

"The next day I brought him a whole basket of fish to keep him occupied. My first mistake was putting a smoked eel in the fish basket. Apparently, eels make most dragons really sick, and they avoid them at all costs. My second mistake was straddling Toothless's tail to tie the new fin on. Once he felt the new fin, he took off so fast I had to cling to his tail for dear life. Unfortunately, he couldn't control the new fin without me, so we crashed back in the cove. I knew what I had to do."

"Over the next few weeks I spent the afternoons training Toothless in the cove, learning about dragons firsthand, and trying to make a prosthetic tail work. At night, I worked in the forge to design a better tail based on what went wrong that day. In the mornings, I used what I had learned from Toothless the day before to subdue dragons in the ring without killing them. I went from Hiccup the Useless to top of the dragon-killing class. This meant I had to sneak away every day to meet Toothless. It also meant that the girl who should have been top of the class was very, very angry with me." Hiccup said something to Astrid and gave her a pointed look. She shrugged and flashed a cheeky grin in reply. "Life was hectic and scary and wonderful, but I realized that everything we had known about the dragons was _wrong_." Hiccup poured emphasis into the last word, as if still desperate to make people see what he had seen on the back of his new friend all those years ago.

"When my father returned to Berk and learned I was top of my class, he was proud of me for the first time in my life. He thought I would be a great killer like him. The only way out I could see was to let Astrid beat me in the ring and win the right to kill a dragon as her final exam. Just my luck, the Gronkle we had to fight zeroed in on me, and I had him passed out before I could think up a new plan. So I packed a bag, and went to run away from Berk with Toothless. Apparently, the gods hate me, because Astrid was waiting for me in the cove with an ax." Again he turned to Astrid and said something in Nordic, to which she laughed, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

As Hiccup described the flight with Astrid, Merida seethed. When he recounted the discovery of the nest and the queen and his failed attempt to train the Nightmare, she and he fellow Scots gripped the table edge until their knuckles blanched. Her heart strummed in sympathy when his father disowned him and his tribe sailed to their death. Merida led the cheer at Hiccup's brazen insanity when he helped his peers train the arena dragons, regarding Fishlegs, Snotlout, and Astrid with new respect. She held her breath when the Red Death erupted from the mountain and burned the fleet of drakkar longships. Lord MacGuffin beat her to the punch with a celebratory cheer as the teens began their assault on the Queen of Dragons, but Merida's excitement was swallowed when Hiccup told them how he sank into the ocean trying to free Toothless. The Scots chewed their nails and hyperventilated as Hiccup and Toothless lured the Red Death into a storm for their final duel and collectively froze in stunned horror as Hiccup described falling into the inferno of the Queen's dying fire, his vision filling first with the dark of Toothless's wings then with the blackness of unconsciousness.

Whatever their faults, the Scots made for a terrific audience.

Hiccup paused, allowing the tension to build. When he spoke each word was measured, and Merida could not tear her eyes away.

"When I awoke, three weeks later, it was to a new world. I had lost my leg, but it was a small price. My friends had taught the village how to coexist with dragons, but it took months to properly integrate them into our society. The Vikings had to change lifestyles and traditions that had been in place for centuries and learn not only how to train the dragons but to communicate with them. In turn the dragons had to learn to accept new rules and boundaries. It was a two-way street, and it wasn't perfect. We fought wars to protect our dragons, first against the Outcasts and then the Berserkers. Our understanding of the world broadened, and we faced new challenges in strange lands from people who hunted or hated dragons and any who would protect them."

"But we adapted. We made our peace with the Outcasts and Berserkers. We found allies in the Wingmaidens and Defenders of the Wing, fellow dragon lovers who accepted our offer of peace. And the dragons stood by our side through the worst of conflicts, returning our loyalty with their own, our love with a bond stronger than any steel. Even after my father was killed in battle against Drago Bludvist in a war over control of the dragons, we have maintained trust in them and been rewarded every time."

Now Hiccup turned to face King Fergus fully, all humor gone from his face.

"Ever since the defeat of the Red Death, Berk has stood for peace, peace with dragons and Vikings. We healed old wounds with the Outcasts and Berserkers. We were patient and understanding when the Defenders of the Wing and Wingmaidens mistook us for enemies, and we celebrated our alliances without grudges. But when the dragon hunters and Drago refused every offer of peace, we dismantled their armies. No matter how many men or ships or enslaved dragons they brought to bear, we outsmarted, outmaneuvered, and outfought them, even if it took years. We offered the survivors and defeated clemency right up to the very end. Berk and our allies, our friends, will always stand together - but on our own land."

The Vikings began to cheer. Merida caught Fishlegs translating their chief's speech down the table.

"But we also understand that peace comes at a price," Hiccup continued, never breaking eye contact with King Fergus. "We are grateful to you for opening your doors to us, but the fact remains that you burned our fields during the growing season, and now many will go hungry. Brave warriors died, and you looted their homes. Hundreds were displaced. Children were cut down in the streets. Innocent dragons gave their lives to protect the Vikings that offered them a home. The Outcasts lost almost half their men volunteering to slow you down so that wounded refuges could make it to safety. And when I tried to offer peace, even after all of this, you attacked anyway." Hiccup did not yell or spit or raise his voice in any way. He did not point or curse. His tone was stern but calm. Merida hadn't felt this intimidated since Queen Elsa froze her solid.

"We appreciate your hospitality, but tomorrow we must begin the negotiations. Hopefully, we can ensure that our tribes never come to war again. I can't speak for the Vikings that have not joined the dragon peace, but-" Screaming from outside interrupted him. Hiccup started. A guard rushed into the throne room, kilt askew and eyes wide.

"Sire, a new dragon has appeared! A giant golden monstrosity! And when the guards fired at it, the beast encased them in amber!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Fergus roared at Hiccup. "Have ya' brought your beasts to kill us while ya' try to distract us with talks of peace?"

"You shot at a dragon," Hiccup countered. "What did you expect it to do, thank you?" Astrid stood up and grabbed Hiccup's arm. She started to say something to him but froze when a series of musical notes trickled in through the doors. Merida's spine shivered. Nothing about that sound was remotely human. Astrid's eyes flew wide.

"Garf!" She shouted, sprinting from the room like an arrow. A guard tried to stop her, and Astrid bowled past him like a wild boar, sending the poor man sprawling to the stone. Hiccup muttered something, probably a curse, and followed her, Toothless at his side and Merida on his heels, the rest of the Scots and Vikings close behind. Hiccup rushed out of Castle DunBroch and through the outer walls. Though slower than Merida, he made decent time with that metal leg of his. He skidded to a stop just outside the perimeter, and Merida crashed into him, nearly knocking them both over. She hardly noticed, mouth working up and down but failing to make noise as she took in the scene before them.

The DunBroch guards surrounded the remaining Vikings and their dragons, who had formed a protective ring around the most bizarre creature Merida had ever laid eyes on. Perhaps fifty feet long from snout to tail, the dragon had the long thin body and short front limbs of a weasel. A horn curved up from its nose and two much longer wavy horny spiraled out from the back of its skull. Golden scales shimmered in the low light, fading into patches of scarlet and burnt orange. Ornate patterns of blue, white, yellow, and red glowed on its wings, and a frill of blue eyes spots flared behind its head. The new dragon screeched, and its roars melded into a serious of melodious notes. The other dragons bristled and flared their wings, bellowing and shaking their horns as they defended their fellow. The raven-haired girl and the twin Vikings stood between the Scots and dragons, trying to diffuse the situation without sharing a language.

"Astrid," Hiccup shouted. The general did not heed her chief, and she charged the Scots with a stirring war cry, ax raised across her chest. She shouted something in Nordic, and Merida could scarcely believe the venom her unintelligible garble conveyed. The Scots panicked and backed away as Astrid dispersed their ranks, blue eyes blazing in the torchlight with murderous intent.

"What is going on here?" Hiccup and Fergus yelled together, and both sides tried to say what happened at the same time. After several minutes of confusion, shouting, dragon screeching, and several knocks to the head, the situation was resolved. Apparently the new dragon, Garf, had been raised by Hiccup and the Riders. On their way to Scotland the Riders stopped to visit him. Garf, though not a quick dragon, followed their scent and arrived late, spooking the guards into firing at him. Garf then encased two guards in amber and fled to the protection of the other dragons and riders. A lot of shouting and blaming flew between Vikings and Scots, but in the end it was decided that the incident wasn't really anyone's fault. The Vikings discussed what to do about Garf amongst themselves for a bit, and Astrid seemed to have a particularly strong opinion. In the end they decided to keep Garf with their other dragons and take him back when they departed for their own lands.

"We'll work on having him officially trained while we're here," Hiccup promised. Merida looked at the dragon, which despite its massive size was trying to hide behind its smaller comrades like a scared puppy and failing spectacularly. With that Queen Elinor announced that perhaps they had all had enough excitement for one day and should begin negotiations at around eleven tomorrow. The Vikings agreed but declined to spend the night in the castle, stating that they would rather sleep with their dragons. An hour later, Merida still couldn't sleep, tossing and turning in her soft bed, sheets twisting around her legs, mind buzzing with everything she had seen and heard. Dragons living with men. Men riding dragons. A society where a woman was a general. Hiccup. Hiccup's self-deprecating jokes and dry wit. His lopsided smile and messy hair. Bedroom hair.

Merida banished that line of thought with a groan and smushed a pillow over her face. She vented a frustrated moan into the pillow and pulled it off with a huff, blowing at a tangle of hair over her eyes. Something sounded at the edge of her hearing, and Merida stilled to listen for it. Laughter. She rose and rushed to the window, pressing her face into the thin slit in the stonework. Outside the castle grounds a campfire burned. Merida could just make out the shadows of dragons circling the fire but couldn't see the Vikings. Instead they made their presence known by a storm of raucous laughter, loud enough for a few scraps to filter up to her window. Merida felt a pang cut into her, deep as any wound. Some irrational part of her longed for their life, living among wild beasts of myth and traveling the winds, free as birds and united with others in that freedom, blind to sex or age. They were free, but they were not alone; and Merida's heart ached to share in what they had.

But she was a Scot and loyal to her people. She would not stand with the people who had come to demand a share in their depleted resources. Her blood still boiled at the crippling blow they had dealt her people and the pain that golden-haired temptress had inflicted on her father. But her hatred hit a wall at Hiccup, swayed by his easy forgiveness for their mistaken attacks, calmed and dispersed at his laugh and smile. Merida groaned again. As much as it killed her, she could not fully hate the Vikings because she could not bring herself to hate Hiccup, so she could not completely drown out the ridiculous little voice telling her that they had everything she had ever dreamed of. Her home was here. Her life was with DunBroch. She could never have the Vikings' freedom or a share in their wild lives of adventure.

But as Merida laid back in bed, a determined frown made its way on her face. If there was one thing Merida DunBroch hated, it was being told she could not be herself, even by herself.


End file.
